


Fallen Walls

by Nikita



Series: Remember [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Flashbacks, Living with Vulcans, M/M, McCoy POV, Pon Farr, Post Movie, Recovered Memories, Romance, can stand alone, h/c, persistent!Spock, reluctant!McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikita/pseuds/Nikita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am aware of our professional relationship both on board and off board the Enterprise. My questions lie within our personal relationship.”</p><p>Oh. Shit.</p><p>(Or: McCoy finally has to stop hiding and Renewed Spock gets an education not covered by Vulcan computers. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after two other pieces: ‘I Tried…’ and ‘To Lose Him Again.’ Lots of McCoy angst, which seems to be what I like to write, hm? : ) If you’ve read the ST IV book (and I’ve only skimmed it) you know that McCoy doesn’t just hop on back to being his normal old cranky and humorous self right away. He needs another session with the Vulcans and isn’t completely separated from Spock… I agree that McCoy wouldn’t have bounced back right away. Not to mention that their relationship in the past was a bit more complicated…
> 
> As with the other two stories, this is in McCoy’s POV.

A hot wind blows through the small courtyard, stirring sand in its wake. The first sign of the beginning of the storm season. I watch it absently as I rub at the back of my neck. I’m developing a permanent crick from the blasted stone slab that Vulcans dare to call a bed. I long for my own Starfleet issue mattress on the Enterprise, or even the little cot I kept in sickbay. But I can’t have either, obviously, considering the fact that the ship that held them both is long gone.

We’re in limbo, it seems. A rather fitting place considering I feel at odds with myself – my life, my emotions, my…everything. I don’t quite know what to do – or even who ‘I’ am anymore. So, I find it rather suiting that my entire career and freedom is at question as well. Might as well have it all go to pieces completely and have it over with.

But, as much as I find this situation appropriate for myself, I cannot say the same for my friends. Scotty, Chekov, Uhura and Sulu. Their futures should not be in danger over this. I wish they hadn’t had to risk everything…but I suppose they figure it was worth it. And as for their careers, they probably won’t suffer too badly. It’s the renegade Admiral Kirk they’re really after. The one who will likely pay the dearest price.

Jim. I feel for him, I really do. He’s risked it all and lost so much. His son. I can only imagine how I would feel if I lost my daughter like that. Lose it completely, most likely. Throw things, pick fights and drown myself in alcohol. But not Jim. He’s holding it all in, trying to negotiate with Starfleet and keeping up with the latest news on Spock’s retraining. He even visited me yesterday to check on me. 

An action I made sure he regretted taking.

His face was rather gray and there were terrible circles under his eyes. I ignored his questions and read him the riot act. How dare he run himself ragged as he was? He needed rest, to eat better, talk to someone, etc. He got pretty angry then. Told me to mind my own business and stalked out of my rooms in a huff. Just as well, I don’t want company anyway.

I watch the sand swirl a while before turning back to my rooms. Small and Spartan is about all I can say for it, Vulcans don’t decorate much for themselves, and even less in guest rooms. Still, the rug on the floor is a nice weave. A subtle variation in shades of red and burnt orange that remind me of a sunset. No obvious design, but soothing and artistic in its own way. I’ve spent a lot of time staring at that rug. 

There’s a light footstep in the hall and I straighten out of my slump against the windowsill and steel myself for the next well-intentioned crewmember to attempt a visit with me. I’m surprised to see Sarek appear at the door, instead. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or wary. 

“Ambassador, ” I nod my head in greeting as he does the same.

“Dr. McCoy. I trust you are comfortable in these quarters? Amanda has told me you have been quiet of late.”

I haven’t actually left these rooms except when strictly necessary the last two weeks. I suppose I’m lucky they haven’t broken down the door and dragged me out yet. I’m being a rather poor houseguest. 

“Ah, yes. They are excellent rooms, Ambassador. I’m…well.” I wish I hadn’t hesitated on the last word, but the fact was I had to choke it out of me. The doctor in me is all too aware that I’m pretty damned far from ‘well’. 

I’m relieved when Sarek seems to accept my words, however, and nods gravely. “I am pleased to hear it. The fal-tor-pan would be most hazardous to any Vulcan, that a human can withstand it in such good mental health is a sign of great strength and stability of the mind.”

At this I nearly snigger - if he only had a clue. But I simply nod back and turn once again to look out the window. Perhaps I’m being rude, but I can’t stand to look at him just now. 

There was a moment of silence and I’d almost forgotten his presence when he spoke once more. “I did not wish to disturb your solitude, however, my son has made a request.”

I turn slightly and look at him curiously. “Yes?”

“He requests your presence. This evening. You may refuse, of course - ”

I’m tempted. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see anyone. But to refuse Spock anything right now is ludicrous. “No need. I will see him. Where?”

XXX

The chamber is dark and cool, lit by a few well-placed tapers. I’m not sure how long I’ve been waiting, but I’m getting pretty restless. I pace the small room endlessly, unable to sit still for even a second. Why did I agree to this? I don’t want to be here, I want to go back to my rooms. To my view. And the rug. Alone.

How pathetic. I’ve truly lost my mind if a little bit of sand and a rug have become my security blankets. And that’s exactly what they are. Soothing and mindless. And my solitude is becoming a crutch. I need to face the others. And Spock is perhaps the most important one to face.

And that is why I am here. Doing my best to wear a groove into the stone floor.

I hear footsteps in the hall finally and I halt in mid-pace. A shadowy figure steps into the doorway, hesitating. 

“Spock?”

The robes sway slightly as the hood is lowered and I finally catch a glimpse of Spock’s face as the light flickers over it. He is grave and serious, inky eyes stare into mine and I wonder at what he sees. 

I’ve never feared Spock, but at this moment I am reminded of how very different Vulcans and humans are. Over the years Spock has become more and more open – human. Nothing dramatic, the man can be irritatingly Vulcan at times, but he has also relaxed a bit. At least with us, his family- the crew of the Enterprise. 

The man before me doesn’t resemble that other man. It is amazing how a gentle expression of curiosity and politeness can differ so much from the stony expressionless face I see before me.

“Doctor.” He acknowledges my presence and then walks past me, seating himself on one of the cold stone benches that line the back wall. 

I glance back at the entrance and see his Vulcan escort bow politely before leaving. I’m becoming more and more uneasy about this visit. I sit down beside him, a bit closer than I’d prefer, but the bench he chose is small. The silence is awkward, but I decide to let him start – it’s his show. 

“I thank you for meeting with me, Dr. McCoy. I am sure you are aware of my present need to understand the memories I am still processing after the fal-tor-pan.”

“Yes” I shift uneasily on the hard bench.

“Many of the memories are easily verified by either my parents, my service record, or other official documents obtained from Starfleet. However, there are some memories that I have not been able to – verify in this manner and I find myself in need of your assistance in this matter.”

My hands are sweating; I think it might be getting hotter in here. Spock is staring at me – why? Oh.

“Uh – what memories are you having difficulty with?” 

“The most recent memories before the transportation of my Katra to your mind are the clearest recollections I have. As the memories go further back beyond the incident, the memories become less cohesive or consistent. There are several periods in association with personal events that I require more information on.”

“I see. What type of information is it you want from me?” My nails are digging into my thighs, I make a conscious effort to stop, clasping my hands before me professionally.

“I am aware of our professional relationship both on board and off board the Enterprise. My questions lie within our personal relationship.”

Oh. Shit. 

I’m quite proud to say that I don’t allow myself to flinch. I simply stare back at him and answer. “We were friends – of a sort.”

“Friends” he repeats, cocking his head ever so slightly.

“Yes, friends. We had our differences in opinion both on duty and off, but overall our relationship was friendly and of course, we were both friends of Jim.”

Spock seems to consider this for a moment before nodding. “Yes, my memories do coincide with what you have said, however, they cannot characterize certain memories that have concerned me of late.” He’s looking intently into my eyes now. Damnit, I can feel my hands shaking.

“I see. I don’t know what to tell you, Spock. We were friends. Nothing more. What more can I do to prove it?”

Well, now, it’s obvious where I slipped up there, isn’t it? 

“I suggest a mindmeld. A chance to compare our memories and resolve my questions.”

I bolt from the bench, crossing to the opposite wall, my back to him. I can’t do this…I can’t.

“Doctor?” his tone is one of polite concern. 

I close my eyes and press my forehead against the cool stone wall. Why? Why is he asking this? Obviously he’s remembered something of our times together. Can’t he just piece it together himself and leave me alone? 

“Do you require a healer?” The soft voice is nearer now, just behind me. I force myself to shake my head and push away from the wall. 

“No – no need. I’m fine…as for your request…I’m not sure I can grant you it.”

“May I ask why?”

I finally look back at him and attempt a grin. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m still wiped from carrying your Katra and giving it back to you. I’m not sure I’m up to another mindmeld anytime soon,” I tap my forehead, “I’m still kind of getting used to it being just me in here.”

He’s silent and intent as he stares at me. I wish he’d blink – he looks as if he’s reading my mind without touching me. Considering how close he’s standing to me – perhaps he is. He used to be able to speak into my mind from across the room – hell, even across the ship, but that was a long time ago…

“I understand, Doctor. It is a health concern, then.”

God, the man will never let me lie. “No,” I sigh, “I just – I’m not sure this is a good idea. Are you physically and mentally able to mindmeld like this?”

“Yes, I have spent the last several days melding with several different healers in the course of integrating my Katra once more. Initiating mindmelds in this manner is standard practice in recovering memories or in healing mental trauma. However, if you do not wish to meld-”

“I consent.” The words are blurted out of my mouth before I’m even conscious of agreeing. The very idea of not helping Spock – especially when he’s asked for it – is alien to me. No matter how panicked or unstable I might be, I’m bound to help him.

“Very well. I will limit the meld to certain areas concerning our personal interactions…”

Exactly what I’m worried about, I think to myself just before hot fingers press against my face. 

“My mind to your mind…” The gentle intrusion in my mind is so familiar and easy – a reminder of times past. I stare into his eyes – feeling the connection open – 

His mind is less ordered than I remember it. Chaotic memories and emotions brush against my mind, he is showing me the pieces of various memories that he is puzzled over. I let it wash over me.

//Heat. Burning heat. The fire burns within but is denied. Jim – Jim is dead, the fire diminishes, fades…sorrow, resignation. Then – Jim! Jim is alive! Happiness soars and control breaks once more. Relief in escaping the feared mating – fear for the future without a bonded… Later – mere days after the incident, the blood fever begins to rise again. Concerned, he returns to the doctor, McCoy. McCoy’s gentle concern, searching for a solution. The ship is unable to return to Vulcan again and Spock is unwilling to risk his colleagues again – a solution comes from the doctor – vague sensations of cool skin against burning flesh – fever abating once more…//

The memory finishes, incomplete with many gaps and discrepancies. I blink as his fingers let go suddenly. He backs a step away from me and I see that his control has slipped – his face is a mask of confusion and his hands tremble. He straightens somewhat as if steeling himself for my reaction.

“My medical records of that time record the physical signs of the Pon Farr and the subsequent abatement after the Kali-fee. There is no record of any reoccurrence in symptoms of the blood fever – nor of any…medical intervention at the time. Can you explain the inaccuracy in my memories of the time?”

“There is no inaccuracy, Spock. Your memories are real…the Pon Farr wasn’t completed through the Kali-fee, merely abated. You couldn’t avoid the biological urge to mate and we were already en route on a mission of mercy to a planet in immediate need of medical supplies. When we realized that you still needed to bond and mate, you refused to tell the captain of your condition…you told me that you would be unlikely to find a bondmate on Vulcan in time, anyway. In order to bond with another without a betrothal, or whatever you call it, you would need to find someone close to you – someone you trusted…someone you were ‘familiar’ with… In the end, you agreed that I would be the most logical choice. I’m your doctor…you trusted me and I was willing to help. I would also keep it secret.” 

I watched him closely as he absorbed this information. He nodded slightly and clasped his hands behind his back, pacing the room slowly, not unlike I had earlier. The familiar gate and posture tugged on my memories of him. His face was solemn as he was lost in thought. He resembled the Spock of old more and more…it almost hurt to watch. I hadn’t told the secret of our affair in all of the years since – not even to Jim. I’d kept his secret to the grave and would have continued to do so. 

He stopped, finally, and turned to face me. “I appreciate your explanation, however it is not logical.”

I feel a sudden surge of anger at his words. How dare he… “It happened as I said! You would have died if I hadn’t intervened…”

He raises an eyebrow, “I am not accusing you of lying, doctor, merely that the facts do not completely fit with your explanation. Why did you not record the reoccurrence of the Pon Farr and the subsequent bonding in your medical logs or in my record?”

My face heats at this professional accusation. “I recorded it in my personal logs and made a special note for your file, specifically coded for my eyes only or in case of emergency for your future physician if the right medical codes were logged onto your file. You wanted the matter treated with the utmost secrecy available. I simply followed your wishes.”

He nods at this, and seems to be considering his next question. I’ve had enough.

“Now if that is all – I’d like to leave” I head towards the door even though I know he is about to protest.

The Vulcan escort appears at the doorway as if I had summoned him. Maybe I did.

“Honored guests, I have been instructed to inform you of the severe weather conditions that have arisen in the past hour. All transports have been shut down for the duration of the storm.”

I’m doing my best not to scream at the man. Don’t kill the messenger , I remind myself firmly. Spock has moved up to stand beside me and I’m uncomfortable at his closeness.

“Are accommodations available for Dr. McCoy?” he asks quietly.

“There are currently 114 guests in the establishment. All rooms are full and several are being shared.”

I open my mouth to speak, but am interrupted by Spock. “The doctor can share my room – it is sufficient in size and solitude.”

The Vulcan nods and walks away without a peep from me. Bloody Vulcans speaking over my head like I’m a child. I’d love to give Spock a tongue lashing over it, but I’d rather not speak with him just now.

And now I’m sharing a room with him.

Wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: Scenes in // depict flashback scene in mindmeld.

If I’d thought Sarek’s guest quarters were Spartan, well I’d yet to see what type of quarters the acolytes of Mt. Seleya considered homey. Spock’s room (singular) consists of one admittedly fair sized bed and a fire pot. That’s it. No rug, no window, and worse yet – no privacy. I’m stuck in this teeny tiny room with Spock for however long it takes for the storms to die down.

As I sit down on the edge of the bed and listen to Spock’s quiet movements somewhere behind me – I try mightily to ignore the rather large elephant in the room. It’s only worse that my imagination suddenly gives the elephant rather pointy ears and arched brows. 

Gods, why did I tell him? I shouldn’t have even agreed to meet with him. I could be holed up this very minute, safely in my rooms watching the storm from my window. Scratchy woolen rug beneath my feet.

“I regret that I have no clothes to offer you besides these meditation robes, Doctor. My wardrobe is somewhat limited these days.” A folded robe is dropped in my lap and I drop my gaze to stare at it, avoiding eye contact.

“That’s fine. I’ve worn them before.” I finally glance up when he doesn’t move from his hovering position before me and see his eyebrow quirked up before he turns away and begins to fuss with his fire pot. 

Ah, two points for shocking the Vulcan! The old game in my head is still easy to slip into. Yes, I’ve worn Vulcan meditation robes before, Spock. Of course, I won’t mention that they were ‘yours’. Lovers sometimes wear a bit of clothing from their significant other while in private. Except of course, we weren’t lovers, were we?

I shove that line of thought aside and hold up the robe. It’s not as nice as the ones I remember. It’s stiffer, scratchier; I suppose acolytes don’t consider comfort a priority. The robes I saw on the Priestesses were much better in quality, of course. Like the smoothest silk. I rub the fabric between my fingers absently as I listen to the quiet repetitive breathing of a meditating Vulcan. I remember other things that felt like the smoothest silk…

Enough. I stand and undress quickly, taking advantage of his preoccupation to change in semi-privacy. I place my clothes in the slot he showed me earlier for the laundry. I’m painfully aware that I am naked beneath the robe and quickly lie down in bed, material firmly tucked around my legs. How am I going to sleep like this? Any minute now he’ll lie down next to me.

I close my eyes and try vainly to fall asleep before that can happen. As I do so, I become aware of the tiniest of sounds. The faint howling wind outside, the faint crackle of the small fire in the meditation container, Spock’s rhythmic breathing…slow and even. I turn over and peek over at him. His back is straight and shoulders even. The flickering light before him dances around the room, briefly illuminating the points of his ears. I feel the familiar impulse to reach out touch them, feel the smooth outer edge of his ear. I once heard him moan as I did that. I want to hear it again.

He shifts suddenly, preparing to stand and I snap my eyes shut: attempting to appear relaxed and quiet. I know I can’t fool him into thinking I’m asleep. He blows out the fire and gracefully lies down beside me. 

I become hyperconscious of my breathing pattern, struggling not to let it quicken with my quivering nerves. I feel certain I should say something. Or that he will say something. 

Any moment now… 

My breathing speeds up despite myself. I lick my lips and open my eyes, squinting in the darkness. 

Opening my mouth, I start to say his name: “Sp-”

A loud snore interrupts me and I shut my mouth and close my eyes in exasperation.

*/*/*

 

Breakfast is a bowl of gruel. Okay, not gruel, but some noxious substance that looks ‘exactly’ like gruel and tastes worse. Luckily, a fellow guest offers me some honey-like substance that makes it edible. 

What I’d really like is a breakfast like I used to have back home. Bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, home fries and grits – a guaranteed heart attack, but a breakfast no true Southerner can do without. My mother used to make the best eggs and her pancakes were light and fluffy. Funny how I find myself thinking about my childhood. I wonder if it has to do with the churning of memories I’ve gone through lately, or if it is simply the need for something close and familiar just now. Probably both. 

The Vulcan mess hall is typical of the decor I’ve seen during my stay – dimly lit with stone benches and tables. Ignoring the dour Vulcan faces before me, I think back to the sunny kitchen of my childhood home. Every morning my mother would make us breakfast and my dad would eat with us and then kiss my sisters and I on the foreheads before heading off to his practice. He was truly an old-fashioned country doctor. The kind I like to stylize myself as, but could never truly be. Not like him. 

He had traditional family values and a stable life. His patients were friends and neighbors. When he died… When he died, the memorial was rather large. Old patients, their children, and their grandchildren, etc. all came to see the old Doc McCoy off. They shook hands with me and even hugged me. 

As if I hadn’t been the one to kill him.

Now I remember why I like to keep my memories bottled up where they belong. In the past. I’ll never be like my father. My marriage was doomed from the beginning and my daughter barely knows me. My practice is an ever-changing body of crewmembers on a starship – or at least it used to be. 

Someone sits down next to me on the bench, startling me out of my reverie. Spock acknowledges my presence and begins to eat. Desperate for a distraction, I push my bowl aside. 

“So, where did you get off to this morning? I woke up and you were long gone.”

Spock swallows before answering, “I joined the morning meditative session with T’Lar and the other acolytes.”

I wonder at this…is he considering himself an acolyte? Will he join the order here as he once wanted to join the Kolinahr? It seems a rather large waste to me. Dragging him back to life only to have him wall himself up in a Vulcan tomb. And that’s what it’s beginning to feel like to me – as if we are all sealed up in a tomb. I shiver, imaging the cold stone walls around me sealing me in, the air growing stale.

“Are you all right, Doctor?”

“I’m fine” I snap and wish I still had the bowl in front of me to fuss with. I run my fingertips over the tabletop, concentrating on the rough texture beneath my skin. “Did you have any other plans for today?”

He finishes his bowl of gruel and sets it beside my abandoned one. “I had thought you might enjoy a tour of the facilities. It will acclimate you to the layout as well as provide exercise.”

I smile and stand. “You could have simply said you wanted to take a stroll.”

Spock stands with me and cocks his head slightly at my comment, “I believe I did so. This way, Doctor.”

XXX

The ‘facilities,’ as Spock puts it, are rather boring and predictable. Large meditation chambers, small private meditation chambers, a physical training room and a large library full of books concerning the subject of logic. All very useful for the average acolyte and absolutely useless in passing the time if you’re not. 

The idea of a rec room or any type of entertainment activities seems to have escaped their logic. I don’t mind, though, I enjoy the walk – Spock was right, I needed the bit of exercise and it’s proving a welcome distraction from my previous thoughts.

As we pass a tight corner in one of the side hallways, I feel him brush against me – nothing more than a brief sweep of robes, but it’s enough to make me suddenly aware of how very close I am to his presence. Alone. The thought stirs something within me that I’d hoped died long ago. 

I quicken my pace, wanting to reach the privacy of my room. I remember, too late, that I am sharing said room and I have no privacy to escape to. I sit on the edge of the bed and wonder what to do next. He stands before me, ramrod straight, hands clasped behind him.

“Doctor, I was wondering if we might continue our conversation from yesterday. I have more questions and I should like to examine the events in closer detail.”

Of course he does, the fact that I’d rather eat glass than revisit those memories is beside the point. I nod reluctantly and pat the space next to me. “Sit down, then, I can’t take your hovering. What questions?”

He sits stiffly next to me and, Lord, the man is a furnace! I can feel the heat between our layers of clothing. Why does this have to be so damn hard? Bad choice of words, Leonard… 

“Yesterday, you described the circumstances surrounding our decision to abate the blood fever in private together following the failed bonding on Vulcan. However…you did not go into detail, nor did you explain the events that followed. My memories of that time are sporadic at best, would you please elucidate?”

So prim and proper – so bloody scientific when asking me to dredge up old memories best left in the past. Just how am I to begin, anyway? Well, see…we jumped into bed and you put your hand on my- I can’t do it! I can’t do this.

“Spock – I want to help you…I understand that you want me to fill in the blanks for you…but I can’t. It’s too complicated. It’s something I’ve never discussed…not even with you.”

He raises his eyebrow, “We never discussed the bonding?”

I snort at that and shake my head. “There was no bonding…not in any traditional sense. It was all a matter of convenience, you see. You needed help and I provided it. The first time…and the next. Your times were somewhat erratic, but I was there for three Pon Farr’s. And likely would have been there for the next one. That’s all it was. No bond.” I find myself quite proud of myself; calm, unemotional and just the facts. Let it drop…please, Spock…

He’s quiet as he obviously assimilates the information I gave him, looking down at his clasped hands before him. He nods slowly and then raises his eyes to look into mine. 

“Then I have one final request: a mind meld to share your memories with me so that I may continue my efforts in regaining my memories on my own.”

Well, that’s it then. My last bit of privacy is to be taken and he will have it all. Very well. Let him have my memories of the time and heal. 

With a great sense of defeat, I nod and turn more fully to face him – inviting him to begin.

The touch is searing, as is the meld, for this time he is entering my thoughts and memories and he is seeking – hunting for the memories of the time in question. I feel the intrusion as if it were a flame in my mind and I stifle the urge to fight it. Instead I open myself fully, letting him in deeper. My eyes squeeze shut and I can almost ‘see’ him within my mind. 

He approaches the moment of the first Pon Farr. The memories of the challenge and subsequent ‘death’ of Kirk are replayed quickly, as if for reference before my memory concerning the reemergence of the Pon Farr three days later:

// The doors to sickbay open and I find myself shocked to see the tremble of his hands as he stiffly informs me he is once again unable to concentrate on his duties.

Spock’s Pon Farr has returned, but he refuses to tell Jim – how can we possibly save him this time if he refuses our help? He tells me he can find no mate in time – that he needs someone he trusts and is familiar with – someone he can obtain a level of connection with in a short matter of time to assuage the mental as well as physical aspects of the fever.

Out of desperation I volunteer myself – it is my duty as his doctor, his friend, and someone who cares. I present my arguments in the most logical matter I can, suppressing my normal urges to plead the emotional case as well. 

He finally agrees and I nearly sigh in relief. He then drops his careful mask and allows me to finally see a glimmer of the turmoil within: his eyes are so dark – so intense, I fear I will be lost in them – in the fever and insanity I see lurking within. I fear him, but I find myself excited as well. 

We decide on my quarters, with my emergency medical kit and various supplies for the injuries that will occur during the time needed. I make up a minor, but contagious illness requiring quarantine for myself and Spock concerning an unfortunate lab accident. I pray that the blood fever will be short.

The fever: the lovemaking is rough and animalistic at the beginning – Spock touches my mind only during sex and he enters without warning - his feelings and thoughts surge into my own.

The fever burns hot and quick, finally easing to low level anxiety and stress, which is lessened with frequent touching – both of the mind and the body. He enjoys my touch - arching under my fingertips, moaning when I trace the outlines of his ears…he even smiles once – a rare and beautiful sight that startles me and makes me want to see it again. I relish this time…seeing a side of Spock I never dreamed existed, much less that I would share it. 

All too soon he declares the blood fever over. My tricorder agrees and we break the quarantine seal of my quarters – facing the world once more.

During the days after, I watch carefully for hints of gossip among the crew, but they are blissfully unaware, concerned with their current mission and the possibility of shore leave. 

I watch Jim, the one who knows us best and surely would be able to guess the real circumstances surrounding our little ‘accident,’ but he is dallying with a pretty young ensign from astrophysics and rarely even has time for the occasional drink or chat.

And I watch Spock, who is completely and utterly normal once more – always on the bridge or in the science lab, head bent in secluded research. Far too busy for more than a polite word and general acknowledgement. All attempts to discuss the event are politely, but firmly rebuffed: Vulcan privacy and stoicism reinforced. 

I take the hint and let the matter drop, but my memories will not go away. I dream of his long slender fingers tracing patterns on my torso – hot breath against my cheek and I wish desperately that I could forget…//

I am shuddering within my own mind. I am not conscious of my physical body, but my emotional self is practically cringing. As much as I dreaded this…as well as I knew that revisiting these memories would be difficult…I had no idea just how painful they would be. I don’t remember it being this painful. 

I shove the thought aside and follow Spock to the next set of memories…the second shared Pon Farr.


	3. Chapter 3

XXX

As painful as the previous set of memories might be to relive, I know that it will only get worse. I inwardly steel myself for the upcoming memories of the second Pon Farr. 

//V’ger. The horrible events that followed and the unexpected reappearance of Spock in my life. 

I was shocked to see him again. After the 5-year mission, he had announced his desire to join some cult on Vulcan. Informed me of the decision mere hours before leaving the ship – a short, polite farewell and a small gift. A token of his respect and friendship. I’d been stunned at the abruptness of his departure.

The years between the 5 year mission and V’Ger are a blur and one that I deliberately shove aside in my mind – we’re here to see the second Pon Farr – suffice to say that I never thought I’d see Spock again. He had decided to go the one place I could never follow. Only to return to confront V’ger years later – popping out of nowhere to join us in our bizarre adventure. I – we had nearly lost him then, but of course Spock’s always had nine lives.

It was only once all was said and done and we were heading home that he came to my quarters seeking a private conference. Spock’s never been one for polite chitchat so he got right down to the point. He was in Pon Farr again. Turns out he’d repressed his ‘time’ under the influence of the cool logic of Kolinahr, but was now feeling the effects once more.

I listened quietly and watched as his hands shook before him. He made no effort to hide them and I took it as a sign of his trust in me. He continued to talk, telling me inconsequential details of his training in Gol and how it should have been sufficient in dealing with the illogical urges he was feeling. I tuned him out finally and simply reached out, taking his hands in mine; feeling the trembling increase as they squeezed mine almost painfully.

“It’s all right, Spock.” 

My words stilled the uncharacteristic babbling and he nodded in relief. If anything the bunks on the Enterprise seemed to have gotten smaller, but we made do.

Hot skin pressed against me and Spock seemed to have sunken deeper into the madness than last time. He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. 

I was a bit nervous and joked, “No foreplay, then?” 

His answering growl was low and dangerous, but he didn’t hurt me unnecessarily. If Jim noticed anything odd about the way we both isolated ourselves to our quarters for the rest of the voyage home, he didn’t say anything. Being on the bridge of the Enterprise again was enough to distract him.

The last night before we reached Earth was fortunately the end of his peak and we lay together in a sticky, sweaty mess with sated relief. Well, I was the one who was a sweaty mess – he brushed my bangs off my forehead and gave me just the slightest caress along the meld points. I felt no more than the lightest touch of his mind: caress of the mind, full of warmth and gratitude. I pulled back from it suddenly and he frowned slightly before withdrawing his hand. As he dressed and left my quarters I stared at the ceiling above my bunk trying not to let a wave of anger and despair override my control…//

“Move on.” My voice is hoarse and I almost don’t recognize it. Spock’s brow furrows and he releases my face, breaking the meld.

“I do not understand-”

“Move ON, Spock. I don’t wish to cover anything beyond the Pon Farr. That one is finished; let’s move on to the next. The last one.”

I stare him down, he slowly returns his fingers to the meld points and I allow myself to relax fractionally – enough to focus on the third Pon Farr.

//Starfleet Headquarters. 

I’d somehow let myself get talked into a position at Fleet Medical, teaching Advanced Med. courses to a new generation of Starfleet surgeons. 

Jim was acting like a stick in the mud over his career, but I was relatively happy with my feet firmly planted back on Earth. I’d had my fill of adventure for one lifetime. The only reason I’d leave it again was if Jim needed me. Or Spock. But he seemed happy with his new position, too. 

He took quite an interesting one of his students, Saavik. A paternal interest, or so I told myself. Repeatedly. But it really didn’t matter if it was something more. We were colleagues and friends as we’d always been, nothing more.

Still, Spock seemed to be spending more and more time with her and Jim only shrugged when I mentioned it. 

“He’s a grown man, Bones. And I doubt it’ll become anything more while he’s still her teacher. You seem inordinately interested in Spock’s affairs. Bored much, doctor?” 

So I let it drop and resigned myself to keeping my nose in my own business.

Which is why I was rather surprised when he showed up for the Pon Farr once more.

The presentation of his condition wasn’t as abrupt or as noticeable as it had been the last two times. He never mentioned the onset of his symptoms. He simply began to spend more time with me. It was subtle at first – a meeting over some issue in research…a shared lunch to discuss a cadet or a class… I was happy, the rare moment with him alone – no Jim or any other colleagues. I was flattered by the attention. I dared to hope - //

My mind resists continuing and Spock’s fingers shift slightly as if seeking to continue the thread we were following.

“Move on…three months later, your fever spiked again.” My words are barely a whisper, but I know he hears me. I see his brow furrow at this before he nods. His fingers seem to press harder on the meld points and I concentrate on the memories I want to share.

//Spock has finally admitted to feeling the fever again. Suddenly the changes in his social habits with me make more sense. We prepare once more to isolate ourselves from the world and I find myself with the familiar feelings of dread and excitement. I wonder at why he has, yet again, decided to share the Pon Farr with me rather than take a Vulcan wife. 

This time the fever is a slow burn. Spock is better able to control his emotions and physical symptoms. Holed up in his apartment, I find the time almost pleasant. Spock takes to meditating a great deal, but during his more…amorous moments, he seems to concentrate on the more sensuous side of ‘mating.’ My mind can’t help but wonder if it is his age or familiarity with the fever that makes this time more gentle… more pleasurable. He seems to take great joy in finding ways to give me pleasure. He explores my body thoroughly and is more patient with my own explorations.

Hot silky skin beneath my fingers. The fever is a slow burn, but that means it also reaches a greater height. Our tears mingle at the peak as he presses his forehead to mine, our chests heaving from exertion. My eyes are closed, but they fly open as I feel a light kiss upon my lips.

He had never kissed me before. Not even in the gentlest of times during his previous Pon Farrs. It is not a Vulcan custom and he never seemed inclined… 

He kisses me again, a bit awkward, but so gentle and kind that I know new tears are forming in my eyes. I stare at him and he kisses me once more before lying down beside me, falling asleep.

I listen to his faint snores for some time before climbing out of bed. Grabbing one of the rumpled robes from the floor, I dress before sitting down in his kitchen with a cup of tea. My face still wet from tears. 

The fever abates finally and not a moment too soon. Training for the latest graduating class of cadets is at its most critical moment and Spock and I are needed at our teaching posts. As I’m leaving his apartment, Spock calls me back.

“You forgot this, doctor.” He hands me the meditation robe I’d been using, freshly laundered and folded. I stare at it a moment before taking it, missing his intent when he uses my grip on the material to pull me a step closer to him. Hot lips press against mine once more before he releases me.

“I will see you again before long?”

I’m flustered, no other word for it. I shrug and hem and haw about deadlines before he finally answers for me.

“The Kobiyashi Maru trials begin in 3.5 months. I presume I will see you then.”//

Pain suddenly flares in my mind as I’m unable to stop the torrent of memories that follow. 

//The trainee mission…

Genesis.

Spock’s high esteem for Saavik…and my bubbling jealousy over Spock’s attention for her…

Khan’s attacks…the injuries in Engineering…Scotty hurt, weak…

Spock.

Spock stepping toward the chamber – I try to stop him – Spock’s fingers paralyzing me…REMEMBER…//

I’m sobbing. Tears run unchecked down my face as I relive the most painful time of my life. I give up trying to suppress the memories and let them flood over me.

//Waking up to see Spock’s dying body crouched on the floor behind the glass…I cannot go to him. Cannot help him…

My call to Jim – he comes running and I have to stop him from flooding the compartment… We can’t save him…I can’t save him…

I watch as they say goodbye…too afraid to do say my own goodbye.

Jealous that Jim does…

Spock’s body on my autopsy table…

His body before me on the biobed after our trip to Genesis…

I don’t think I could stand…to lose you again… //

The meld falters and Spock’s fingers slowly slip from the meld points. I continue to cry, unable to stop as he watches me quietly. I hunch my shoulders and cover my face, unaware of the hands that are urging me backwards – to lie down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: this is the comfort part of the h/c. I believe in happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Thank you for reading! I wrote this years ago and was almost afraid to look at it again, much less post it, but I'm glad I did now. 
> 
> Important note: The end of this story ignores Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, just FYI.

XxXxX

I’m not aware of when I fell asleep, but I must have because I wake up on the hard Vulcan bed feeling as if I went four rounds with a Klingon. My muscles ache and my head feels…odd. Gawd, what happened?

And then it hits me…the meld and how it got out of control in the end. The grief that I’ve been burying had hit me like a sledgehammer and I’d dragged Spock along for the ride.

Damn. I never meant for him to see that. I realize that I’ve been repressing it because I didn’t want to deal with it. And now…do I feel better? Oddly, I do. There is a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I feel as if I’ve been through the wringer, no doubt about it, but I also feel…free.

I struggle to sit up, but my back isn’t happy. I’m not as young as I used to be. I finally notice I’m not alone when Spock stands up from his spot in front of the firepot and turns to face me.

“You slept for 3.5 hours, the healer recommended you continue to rest after some nourishment. Do you wish to eat?”

“Spock-” I croak, and clutch my throat. He leaves the room and comes back with a cup of water. I drain it gratefully and sit up further. Now that I can speak, I’m uncertain of what to say. What ‘could’ I say? He’s seen it all in my head. 

He stares at me quietly, waiting for an answer, I guess, but I feel awkward and unsure. I can’t even answer a simple question about whether or not I’m hungry – how am I going to deal with the rest of it?

When he finally realizes that I’m not going to answer, he steps back towards the door once more. “I shall bring you some dinner before I leave.” 

“Leave?” I ask, but he’s already out the door. Where is he going? Damn, the man – doesn’t he realize we have to talk about this?

He comes back in with a bowl of fragrant stew – vegetarian, of course, and turns around to leave once more.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He pauses, but does not look back.

“I must meditate. You have given me much to think about and I must attempt to recover my own memories.”

I’m staring at the back of his head, willing him to look at me. What’s going on in that skull of his? 

“And after you’ve meditated?” I finally ask.

He bows his head for a moment and straightens again, still not turning back. “I do not know. You are free to leave – the storms have passed and the transports will be operational within the hour.” 

He vanishes out the door once more, leaving me sitting on his bed. Alone once more.

 

XxXxX

 

Jim seems happy to see me at least. He tells me how worried he was for me; no one of the Enterprise knew where I’d gone until Sarek had informed him of my meeting with Spock.

“How was he?” Jim asks me eagerly. He’s desperate for news especially now that it seems Spock has holed himself up in isolation once more.

“I don’t know. A bit lost, I guess. He’s still recovering his memories.” I don’t want to talk about this…not with Jim. He just wants his friend back and I…I don’t know what I want.

“Well, did he say anything about Starfleet? Will he be coming back with us? We leave in two days.”

“I doubt it, Jim. Like I said, he’s still recovering. Besides, they’re not going to punish ‘him’ are they? He had nothing to do with it.” 

Jim reassures me that Spock’s safe from Starfleet, but continues to pester me on Spock’s status. I finally plead exhaustion and retreat back to my room. 

It seems different now. The room’s the same: the scratchy woolen rug, the window overlooking a view of sand and the same rock hard bed. It’s the same and yet it seems different. 

Empty. 

Lonely. 

I lie down on the bed and close my eyes. Something’s missing and I know exactly what it is. Spock. I miss his warmth, his presence. Knowing that I could roll over at any time and see him…touch him. 

I stand up once more and pace the room, unable to rest.

 

XxXxX

 

A ship has arrived to ‘escort’ us back to Starfleet Headquarters where we will face our court martial. Jim’s been giving me looks as if he expects me to pull Spock out of a top hat or something, but I have nothing to offer him. 

We beam aboard the ship and are greeted with subdued politeness and escorted to our quarters. I suppose we’re lucky they didn’t haul us off in chains or something. I pace my cabin as if it were a cage until the small viewport catches my eye. Vulcan’s bright surface beckons me and I find myself hypnotized by the sight.

The door chimes and I wonder that Jim or the others are allowed to leave their cabins – I thought we were under arrest? 

“Come in.” The door slides open and I see a very recognizable silhouette. “Spock…” My voice is high and strained. I don’t recognize it – much like I haven’t recognized myself in so long… He shouldn’t be here. He should be on Vulcan – recovering. Why is he here? 

“May I come in?” his voice is soft and without reproach, yet it reminds me that I’ve been staring at him without any other response.

“I guess…what are you doing here?” 

“The crew is leaving Vulcan for Starfleet Headquarters, is it not? My place is with the crew.”

I narrow my eyes and step forward to confront him. “Don’t try to pull that on me – you’re supposed to be resting and working on your recovery. You have no part in our court-martial. Jim told me you’ve been officially cleared.”

Spock raises his eyebrows and brings his fingertips together with infuriating calm. “Nevertheless, my place is here. I will face the court-martial.”

There’s no arguing with him. He’s got that glint in his eye and I can tell he’s dug his heels in and won’t budge. Fine. Let him try to face the damned court-martial just to prove he’s one of the crew. I’ll be sure to add my own medical report that he’s unfit to make such decisions at this time. Let him chew on it when he finds out.

“All right, have it your way, Spock. But that doesn’t explain why you’re ‘here’ – in my cabin. Jim’s is on the left, and he’s been dying to see you.”

He raises his usual eyebrow at this, but otherwise ignores my illogical choice of phrasing and simply nods. “I will be certain to report to the Admiral before we reach Earth. As for my presence – there is something I must discuss with you.”

“What?” I know what it is, but I’m hoping to avoid it.

“I have spent some time meditating on the events which you shared with me through the melds – some memories have resurfaced and it is necessary that I speak of them now.”

I wave him off and walk towards the door. “I’m glad you’re remembering on your own, but I’m rather tired and I’m not up to talking about them right now.” I’m close enough for the door sensor to open, but it doesn’t. 

Spock remains where he is, “I do not believe we shall be allowed to leave the cabin without permission. We ‘are’ under arrest, Doctor.”

“Damn it! Why would they let you in here, anyway? Have they run out of rooms or something?” I can’t believe this. I’m stuck in a room alone with him AGAIN. Life is definitely out to get me lately.

“I requested that I be brought to your rooms, Doctor. The captain was gracious enough to grant it. As for the memories of the Pon Farr – I do not wish to discuss them in detail with you at this time. Rather, I wish to inform you of...certain aspects of my regained memories concerning our past.”

I leave the doorway finally and head back to the view port. I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic – knowing for certain that I can’t escape and that Spock refuses to allow me to avoid this conversation is making me panic. “The past is the past, Spock. I don’t wish to revisit it any further.”

I see him step closer in the reflection of the glass. “It has bearing on the present and future, Doctor. It is illogical to ignore it.”

I whirl away from the view and confront him. “I’m human and we’re often illogical – I don’t want to talk about this any further.” 

He steps closer to me and I’m frozen in place, trapped under his heavy gaze. “I did not come here to harm or inconvenience you, but there are certain things I must say to you. I remember the first Pon Farr, it was a matter of embarrassment to me…the inability to control my body or my urges…the knowledge that my own bondmate had abandoned me for another, but you helped me. Not simply as a doctor or colleague, but as a friend. Yet it was only after the Pon Farr was over that I realized this and that this friendship was most important to me. I attempted to deny the importance – the illogic of my growing…affection for you…I confess to a certain amount of satisfaction in our interactions and in our debates through the course of our work. When the mission was over – I turned my back on such emotion to follow the path of pure logic, but in the end it was not to be. I could not purge my emotions so easily.”

I swallow with difficulty at hearing this, remembering the haste in which he’d fled the Enterprise for Vulcan. 

“I returned to the Enterprise because I felt a pull – a need to be there. Upon seeing you again I began to feel the increasing tension and needs of my time once more… I began to realize that I could not completely suppress my emotions – only better control them and channel them in an appropriate manner. And yet…the emotion grew and I came to an understanding…one that I wished to share with you…”

He seemed to be stalling – unable to continue. 

“What?” I asked finally.

Spock shifted on his feet and looked rather pinched. I watched him carefully and he almost seemed to fidget under the weight of my gaze. How interesting…I had the almighty Vulcan squirming.

“Love…it is a human feeling and one I was hesitant to admit. But I did – before the training mission; I had planned to discuss our relationship with you. I wished to bond with you formally.” Spock then reached into a small pocket of his robes and withdrew a small box. “It is human tradition to present a ring at the event of betrothal…”

I’m stunned at the sight of the box in his hands. I recognize it as one I packed away in his things shipped back to Vulcan. I hadn’t opened the box out of respect for his privacy. I stared now at the gleaming gold band within it. 

“Leonard H. McCoy, will you marry me?”

The words were a human proposal, not a Vulcan one and the gesture touches me all the more because of it. He’s making quite an effort to woo me and I’m well aware of it. I can’t help smiling. 

“Took you long enough, didn’t it?” I blurt out. My voice is cracked and I shake my head at my own words. “No…what I mean is… Forget what I said – I’m just stunned.” I clear my throat and decide to face him head on. “Spock, even if you ‘had’ intended to propose to me before…this isn’t – that doesn’t mean you should now. If you’re only doing this because you remembered something…”

Spock stepped forward and reached one hand out, not quite touching my cheek. His eyes were dark and intense as they stared into mine. “I am doing this because I remember…I love you. I have seen in your own mind your love for me…and I have remembered mine for you…I could not express it until now, but I wish to prove it to you…” His fingertips brush against the meld points, but he doesn’t engage the mindmeld until I nod. His mind merges with my own and I am stunned at the depth of his emotion. 

// It was not lost…only misplaced for a time… I am yours, T’hy’la…will you be mine? //

I know I’m crying, but I don’t care – all that matters is that I finally see the love I had for him reflected in his eyes. I’m suddenly angry at the time I’ve wasted already in fear and ignorance. I answer him in the only way I can, kissing him deeply, our minds still joined as one.

It’s many moments later that we finally break mental contact and I sag against him, pressing my forehead to his. “Damn it, Spock…you do realize you’re marrying an old man on the way to his court martial…you might want to rethink this idea of yours.”

He lets me dry my tears on his robe – a sure sign of love if I ever saw one – and then he touches his fingertips to mine in the gesture I saw his own parents use so many times before.

“As I said earlier…my place is here. With you.”

 

END


End file.
